Circle of Grief
by WildHorseFantasy
Summary: In the aftermath of a dear friend's death, Neal is torn between the need to be alone and the desire of his friends to help. Set in season 4, Spoiler Warnings!


**Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar. Done for to satisfy my curious fandom brain and not for profit. Set in**

**Season 4, so beware spoilers!**

* * *

It was not an instant process. It would not have been easy even if it had been. When Peter found Neal, in shock, at the hospital, he knew it would be bad. The doctor had just told him something and the young man was wobbling. Peter hurried over and gripped his arm, leading him to a seat.

Neal swallowed. He blinked hard but he couldnt chase the tears from his eyes. He started to shake.

"I did this. I brought attention to her."

"You didn't shoot her. This started when you were just a kid. It's not your fault."

"I k..., if I hadn't gone to her, she'd still be alive..."

Peter closed his eyes in a moment of grief. He hadn't needed to hear the confirmation, but it still hurt. Knowing there was someone who loved Neal had given him a mysterious ally, one he didn't know the first thing about and barely met. But they had shared that one thing and it mattered.

"This is not your fault. But we'll find out whose fault it is."

Neal was silent the whole way home. Peter escorted him to his apartment. He hesitated.

"I'll be okay, Peter." Neal's voice was a whisper. "I just...need to be alone awhile."

Peter nodded understanding. "Okay. But if you need anything..."

"I'll call. Thank you."

Peter frowned as he went down the stairs, nearly stepping on Bugsy. "Oh!" He pulled back as the dog yelped at him.

"You look distracted." June came in and scooped up Bugsy with a smile.

Peter gave her a sad look. He glanced back up at Neal's apartment.

"June..." He faltered, not sure what to say. "Keep an eye out will you? He's really out of it."

"Why? What happened?" She was frowning now, concern etched in her features.

Peter took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ellen...Ellen Parker was murdered. We just came from the hospital.

June's eyes widened and she looked up at the apartment. "She'd known him as a child."

Peter nodded. "I never know how he'll react when he's grieving. And he has a right to be upset."

"He has friends. Don't worry, Peter, we'll take care of him." She stroked the pug who was whimpering at the stress in their voices. "Catch the killer Peter."

Peter went out to his car, got in and just sat. Pressure felt like it was weighing him down like a mountain had landed on him. Finally he drove home and dragged himself in the front door.

"Honey, how bad is it?" Elizabeth asked. She'd known something was wrong when he charged off without a word after the phone call.

"Ellen is dead." The word tasted vile on his tongue.

Elizabeth froze then slowly sank in a chair. "How?"

"Gunshot. Assassinated. The marshals are dead too."

"Oh...Neal..." her voice was a knowing whisper.

"Yeah." Peter shook his head. He went and got a beer, then collapsed on the couch. Normally, Elizabeth would've commented on that. He tilted his head back and rubbed the bottle on his forehead.

"Are you all right? You don't look so great yourself."

Peter stared at the ceiling. "I really need to catch this one, for Neal's sake. He's hurting so bad and he's every right too."  
"You will."  
"But this is...in a way, worse than the deal with Fowler or Collins. Harder."

"Of course."

Peter shook his head slowly. "Not just because they are in the Bureau. This is the marshal's case. And if I know the marshals, they won't want to share."

"Neal has a right to know."  
"Yes, but he's Neal and they know it."  
"Mmmm." Elizabeth sipped her coffee. "He's antagonized the people whose cooperation he needs."

"Precisely. I'll try though. But what I'll do if I can't even get anything on the crime scene..." Peter just shook his head and sighed.

"When is the funeral?"

"I don't know yet. But probably just a day or two. They'll rush the autopsies, they've got two dead marshals and that puts them high on the priority list."

"We didn't know Ellen well. But we need to be there for him."

"I know. But right now he just wants to be alone."

"You don't have to go, guys." Neal said. "I'm fine, really." But the waver in his voice belied the confident statement. He was anything but fine.

"We're going, Neal. At least to the memorial. For you, and to find more out about this woman who loved you so much." June hugged him.

Neal managed to cram into the chapel the service was held in. Ellen had made a lot of friends here. He managed to get a spot up front, since they were so close and the marshals (for a wonder) had vouched for him. He wondered about that. Had the marshals put together the fact that Neal was that boy Ellen had raised in WitSec? Or had she told them? He knew Peter hadn't. He hadn't even put that factoid in his file, at least not yet. None of it had been there until Collins had appeared. That thought made him frown, and look for his friends. Unfortunately being near the front meant he was far separated. Nonetheless he felt a twinge of gratitude that they were there. June, Peter and Elizabeth had all shown up. He felt oddly conflicted. Ellen was a largely private part of his past that he wanted to be alone to deal with. And yet, at the same time, he didn't want to be alone. He was almost afraid to be alone, of the empty feeling he knew that would be there.

The graveside service was only for those closest. Neal scuffed his shoe on the ground. June and Elizabeth left to run some errands he wasn't privy too. Peter drove him to the cemetery. Neal swallowed hard several times, his throat dry during the final service. He didn't know these people around him. They were only connected through his friend, the woman who had taken care of her partner's son as if he were her own, stepping up when his own mother failed to. And he had left her. Bolted from her loving presence when she told the truth and took up a life of crime she was sure to disapprove of. But never once had she accused, or blamed.

Service over he wandered slowly back to Peter. His friendship meant everything just now and Peter didn't hesitate to back him when he yelled out to the figure he hoped was Sam. In retrospect, that might've been rash. The man took off at a run. Sam had good cause to be nervous. When they gave up the chase and turned to leave, he didn't realize right away where they were going afterward.

"What's this?"

Peter pulled up at his own house. "Just a momentary stop. Come in for a minute."

Neal got out reluctantly and followed Peter into the house. He stopped cold at the small party set out there. June and Elizabeth had set out some of Neal's favorites. A picture of Ellen was on the table.

Neal hesitated. Part of him was screaming to be alone. That part melted like a snowball in the sun when Elizabeth hugged him. "We know you probably don't feel up to much. But we wanted to do something."

The mini memorial wasn't long. They just had a few snacks and a toast. Neal told them about Ellen, opening up, just a bit, about some of his minor exploits as a child that involved her.

"You forged a bus pass?" Peter was smiling slowly. "Some day, in the far, far future, when all those statutes of limitations are up, you need to write an autobiography. Master criminal born via city bus pass..."

Neal gave him a rueful smile. "One did what one must." He hesitated. "I'm really grateful, but I'm kind of tired..."

"Of course you are." June patted his arm. "And I'm ready to go home too." She smiled at the Burkes.

"You call if you need anything."

"I will." Neal said sincerely.

"Oh. And we have something for you." Elizabeth handed him a small package.

Neal blinked in surprise. "You didn't have to do that." Who gave out gifts at funerals?  
"We wanted too. Open it when your ready."  
"I think I'll savor the suspense for a bit."

Neal waited until that night when he was alone. Mozzie had gone. The house was quiet. He studied the simply wrapped package with some puzzlement. Once again he wondered why they would give him a present at a funeral. He opened it to find a simple but stylish hardcover journal, with plain pages suitable for drawing or writing. The cover had a picture of Ellen taped to it and a copy of the obituary. Inside the front was written: 'draw your memories or write them down. For your eyes and memory only, so that she is with you forever.'

Neal blinked back tears. His friends were great today, he realized. They'd been there for him and yet given him space. Somehow they had known just what he needed. Finally he picked up a pencil and began to draw. He drew her face, as if he feared it would fade from memory. He drew her favorite flowers. He wrote down things she'd told him. He kept going into the far reaches of the night and then tucked the journal into one of the many hiding places in the former speakeasy turned apartment. For his eyes and her memory only.


End file.
